


You Got Me Tied In Knots

by WetSammyWinchester



Series: Swesson Love Week 2016 [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Pining Dean, Sassy Sam, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 12:35:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7574278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WetSammyWinchester/pseuds/WetSammyWinchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When your tech looks like Sam, it's tough to be focused on work.</p><p>Swesson Love Week prompt: bondage (sort of, not really)</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Got Me Tied In Knots

When the glass door to his office swung open, Dean Smith swiveled away from his view of the city skyline and then smiled a little at the equally breathtaking view of the man walking in his office.

“It’s Sam Wesson, right?” Of course, Dean knew that before he asked. There were always two techs on call so it was a bit of a crap shoot on who would show up, but he loaded the dice a bit when he called down to his friend in IT, asking about Sam’s shifts.

The tall tech looked adorably confused that Dean knew his name.”Uh, yeah, that’s me. What can I do for you?”

“It’s my computer. Something seems to be wrong.” Dean rolled his chair back from the desk and waved the man over.

Sam moved behind the desk, trying the keyboard and monitor but both were dead. He then leaned against the edge of the desk with his broad shoulders canted forward and his slim hips pushed back, and Dean’s mind lit up with the urge to slip out of his chair and slot right up against that. He tightened his grip on the armrests to keep himself seated.

The tech pulled on a nest of loose cables running along the back of the computer, and turned to face Dean. With those perfect abs right in front of his face, Dean made a mental note to get the name of Sam’s trainer because damn, that boy was ripped.

Sam made an impatient noise and Dean lifted his eyebrows, suddenly aware that he hadn’t responded to some question that was asked. “I said, is this plugged in properly, Mr. Smith?”

Thoughts of plugs and cables and Sam calling him Mr. Smith made Dean’s dick perk up, and he smoothed out his tie to give him more time to answer.

“I’m not sure. Can you check it out for me?”

Sam climbed under the desk and began crawling around, squeezing into that tiny space. His god-given ass in those god-awful khakis waved in front of Dean like a red flag to a bull, and a bead of sweat rolled down his temple despite the temperature control of his office. He was a minute away from running the toe of his polished Ferragamo dress shoe up the inside of Sam’s thigh when Sam backed out.

“I found your problem.” Sam sat up on his knees at Dean’s feet, holding up a loose power cable, that flopped over his enormous fingers. “Somehow all of your cords are unplugged.”

“Huh, I wonder how that happened.” Dean bit on his lower lip to keep himself from grabbing that cable and wrapping it around Sam’s wrists.

Dean wasn’t normally this out of control over a co-worker but there was something about Sam. Almost every night, he dreamed of this beautiful man, bound by ropes and chains and cords. But it was really weird because in his dreams, Dean wasn’t the one that tied him up. Instead he was the one rescuing Sam from dark monsters–the stuff of horror movies–and comforting him afterwards by stroking his face and soft hair. Weird comfort sex fantasies around someone he didn’t even know.

As Sam stood up from the floor, he grabbed both of Dean’s legs to leverage himself into a standing position. At the feel of those enormous warm hands closed around his thighs and the invasion of his personal space, Dean’s mouth went dry. When the tech leaned over him, it was like an eclipse of the sun, his muscular body blocking out all light and all thought.

As he kept his hands on Dean, Sam whispered in his ear. “And Mr. Smith, next time you want me on my knees, crawling around on the floor, just ask. You’d be surprised at the answer.“


End file.
